Abide with Me
by WitheringSage
Summary: Raja has a difficult time adjusting to the early stages of womanhood.


**Abide With Me**

_It's so much more friendly with two.  
__-Winnie the Pooh;__  
__Piglet, Pooh's Little Instruction Book_

Chronology: Tristan is 22. Raja is 12.

Thick. Sticky. Warm. Raja tossed and turned in bed, caught between nightmare and reality. They were silent this time, but Their lips still moved with the lines of dialogue she had long ago memorized word for word. Raja felt no pain in her dream this time, but it was no less scary, the images no less unwelcome. She felt another trickle of viscous liquid between her thighs. Her body was now tangled among the blanket and sheets. They laughed in her nightmare as They abused her. Their body fluids mixing with hers. Raja broke through the dark dream with a serrated intake of breath, her eyes snapping open as wide as saucers. Her body, then rigid, collapsed into a limp pool of shaky limbs, as she realized with stark relief that it had all been a dream.

The little Egyptian girl was coated in sweat that caused goose bumps to pimple on her body. Her nightgown had rode up her thighs during her thrashing, and untangling the blankets she felt something gel between her thighs. She threw the covers aside, and lifted up the rest of her gown. Her breath caught, she felt her heart beating in her ears. Black goo was smeared in between her thighs. She bounded out of bed, one hand still holding up the hem of her shift. Raja's eyes were filled with panic, seeing the black stain on the sheets, the back of her nightgown was likewise blotted.

Fright, confusion, and disgust consumed her, and she bolted out of her bedroom, running to her uncle. Tears were already streaming down her face, the soles of her feet hurt from running hard on the stone flooring. Ardeth must have heard her commotion and weeping, because his door opened when she was but ten paces away.

"I'm bleeding!" she cried before he could ask her what was wrong.

But with those two words, Ardeth grasped the import of her distress. With soothing croons he led her back to her room. Ardeth had spoken to his niece about what would happen during this time. It should have been a conversation to be had between a mother and daughter, but his sister, Aisha, Raja's mother, was dead. So a little while after Raja's twelfth birthday, he sat her down and explained to her about "menstruation" and "courses." He was delicate, but precise, knowing the little girl was shy of her body and its changes. He knew that he had to mentally prepare her as best he could, for she had balked when he had asked her if she would rather Vanora or Thea have this discussion with her. But, no, Raja always went to her uncle for the most private of bodily manners.

"It is a very natural process," Ardeth had told her.

She sat, listening, her face a mask of disbelief and revulsion. "Can't I stop it?" she asked.

"No, little one. It is something all young girls must go through."

Now, Raja was enduring, her cries reduced to sniffles as her uncle changed her bedding, and she washed herself with warm water and soap. He laid out a clean nightgown for her, and gave her the folded cloths she needed. She put on a pair of hose over her breech-cloth. The bulk of the padding was uncomfortable and embarrassing between her thighs. It rubbed against her most private of places, and she did not like its presence.

The sun was now rising, and Raja knew she would be getting no more sleep. She could hear the population of the fortress beginning its day. Raja sat down in front of the fire, back erect, thighs closed, trying not to fidget lest she bunch the cloth and then reach down _there_ to fix it.. A blanket lay over her lap, another hung on her head, effectively enveloping her in a cocoon of linen.

"Are you hungry, little one?" Ardeth asked, concern on his face.

Raja shook her head. No, she was not hungry, nor thirsty. She felt drained and robbed of any control over her own body. She felt unclean. Tears threatened to fall again, and Ardeth kneeled down in front of her, clasping her hands in his. It was one of the few times he felt at a loss of what to do or say to comfort his vulnerable niece.

"I don't want to go out today," she whispered.

He told her that was perfectly all right, and that he would bring her meals to her. When the knights inquired about her later, he said that she was not feeling well and was not up for company. Raja barely said a word that day, and only nibbled at her lunch and dinner. The next morning she refused breakfast, choosing to maintain her vigil in front of the hearth. That evening, Ardeth went to bid her goodnight and found her nodding off in the chair.

"Are you not sleeping in your bed, Raja?"

"Laying down makes the cloth move around," she said. Her voice was dry, having only consumed a little bread and a cup of water.

Ardeth sat in the other chair, his concern for her state of mind increasing. She had only left her room to bathe before returning to sit in front of the fire. He had not been able to get her to eat or even engage in conversation. She still welcomed no other presence but his.

"I would like you to eat something, Raja," he said.

She pursed her lips and wrapped the blanket tighter around her. "I'm fasting."

He was slightly taken aback. "What need have you to fast, little one?"

"I'm unclean." She took a breath and went on to speak, it was obvious that she had been thinking her statement over. "I will only accept one cup of water while I am on my menses every month. I will not go out, and no one can see me but you."

"Raja, you are not unclean. Cloistering yourself every month will not make this any easier. And fasting will only make you ill."

She finally turned her head to look at him. "It will purify my body during this tainted time. And I won't go out like this. What would they say? They won't want to be around me..." her voice broke and she bowed her head into her chest. Raja let her uncle take her hands and lift her onto his lap so she could cry on his shoulder. She rarely sat on his lap anymore as she had done when she was younger. She might have been too old for this now, but this was a part of her fears; the changes in her body meant that she was growing, too big to be carried and cuddled.

"Tristan, Lancelot and the others will think no differently of you. Why would you believe so?"

"Because I have the Curse now! I'm the little one, and now I'm supposed to be a young lady and I'm not! And as long as they don't see me when the Curse is here, I can keep being the little one. They don't have to know."

Ardeth let her calm, her tears had tired her, and she began to drift off into a fretful slumber in her chair. The following day was much of the same thing. She staunchly refused any food, and only took her self-allotted cup of water for sustenance. The men continued to ask about her absence, especially sense Raja did not want company. Usually, she welcomed company when she was sick in bed. Tristan suspected she was not ill in the true sense of the word, but was secluding herself for a reason he suspected but was not sure of.

Thea, also concerned of the young Egyptian girl's absence, conjectured that she must have gotten her menses (confirming Tristan's suspicions) – why else would a young girl feel the need to close herself away?

"That's mad!" Lancelot protested. "My cousin's just a little girl!"

Thea had rolled her eyes and called him a dolt.

Raja's blood was waning by the fifth day, for which she was intensely relieved. She was already feeling cleaner, and when the Curse left her, she would break her fast and go visit Odin and Horus. She slumbered upright in the chair each night, bathed in the morning and returned to her room thereafter.

On the sixth day, her uncle was reading to her before her bedtime, and when the story was over, he went to kindle the fire before he quit the room. The iron poker stirred the pyre, where Ardeth saw remnants of burnt cloth.

"What is this, Raja?"

Her eyes were on Smee the Mouse, who was idling in the palm of her hand. "The cloths."

His brow creased. "You are not supposed to burn them after you wash them, little one. Is that what you have been doing?"

Raja nodded. "They were dirty."

Not unkindly, for he knew that this had been a difficult week for her, he said, "I told you that you are supposed to wash them with hot water and lye."

"But I can't reuse them!"

Ardeth sighed. "They are perfectly reusable after being washed and dried thoroughly."

Raja's face plainly expressed that reusing the cloths was as repugnant as the reason why she had to use them in the first place. Now, Ardeth felt helpless. She sat there, eyes wide and guileless, dwarfed in the large chair. She was still small for her age. He did not know how to convince her that she was not unclean. And as her body continued to develop – what then? Would she continue to try to circumvent what was natural and punish her body for going through its natural stages?

Just as she had taken to binding her chest when she had told him of the soreness, and he had explained that the tenderness was because her bosom was developing. Raja later had confided in him that she was binding her chest to stop them from growing, and once again he had had to witness the distress on her face when he told her that wrapping her bosom would not prevent her from growing. And all this he knew was because of what she had endured at the hands of those three savages in Egypt five years ago. He had no doubt that had Raja been spared that fate, she might accept her bodily changes with more alacrity and perhaps some joy, eventually accepting her womanhood. Instead, the person he loved and cared for most in the world loathed her person.

How could it have come to this? One obstacle after another, and the more nature put upon her, the less he would be able to do about it. For like it or not, she could not stay a little girl forever, even though she would always be his little one. He could not force her to eat, and he feared that if she starved herself once a month for however long her menses lasted, she would become ill. Her health was still so capricious.

"I love you, Raja, my little one, more than anything. And my heart hurts for you. I wish there was something I could say to ease your heart, but I fear this is something that you will have to come to terms with on your own, in time. But I will always be here for you." He gave her a kiss on the cheek and bid her goodnight.

--

Going outside was daunting after having spent a week inside. The sun was shining the day Raja broke her fast and ventured back outdoors. There was no bulge between her thighs from the cloth, no more odd smell. Yes, her shoulders once again felt light. She headed towards the tavern where she hoped her friends would be.

Bors, Dagonet, Lancelot, and Tristan were sitting at a table. She greeted them as if nothing were amiss, as if she had not seen them in seven days.

"Back from your sojourn, cousin?" Lancelot quipped.

"Yeah," Bors gruffed heartily. "We hear you've become a little woman!"

Raja's face turned crimson, and blood pounded in her ears. Before anyone could say anything she beat it out of the tavern. Vanora, who had been approaching, cursed at him.

"You oaf!" Vanora slapped Bors on the back of his head.

--

Tristan found her in the stables. He could hear her quiet crying from one of the stalls. He looked over to see her sitting down, head bent. Her tears always pained him.

"I suppose you don't want to be my friend anymore now that I'm Cursed," she said quietly.

"That's ridiculous, Raja, and you know it."

She only shrugged, slowly, which was evidence of how little she did not know it. Had she truly believed it ridiculous she would have said that she knew. He didn't know what women went through with their menses, some got cramps he knew, and could act like hell spawn, but he could not reconcile that with his Raja. To him, she was no woman, just his friend, his dearest friend. She wasn't even five feet, but she had been growing he knew. He had even caught that whelp Galahad sneaking a side glance at her.

"Well," he said, "the flowers in my room are wilted."

Raja wiped the tears from her face and looked up at him.

"If you're going to insist on putting flowers in my room, they might as well be fresh ones."

She managed a tremulous smile. "Don't snivel, Trissy. We'll get you some more."

He smirked. "Come on then." He swung the door open for her and she dusted off the seat of her pants. She threw her arms around his waist and held on tight, he was still the same. His arms went around her and pressed close before releasing her. Looking at her, now, he could see that she was not the same little girl who had come to Britain four years ago. But that did not change how he felt about her. That she made him feel worthwhile, someone who was good for more than just warfare. He was good with her. And he was not the same person he had been four years ago either – he was a better one.

5/1/08


End file.
